


Magnets

by TailgatesHarem



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Humanformers, M/M, chromia is a barista goddess who sets her customers up, recovery fic, recovery fic for Full Strawberry Moons, shy fort max baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TailgatesHarem/pseuds/TailgatesHarem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rung escapes Swerve's trendy apartment party around one in the morning on a cold autumn evening, but he has no inclination to go home just yet. After meeting the talented barista and her doting partner, Rung settles in for some self care in the form of a decaf latte. However, when one intriguingly large man comes in and settles exactly across from Rung in the booth on the other side of the store the teal eyed psychologist can't stop thinking about him. Soon they lives collide like magnets and sparks grow even if they're practically strangers. -- Complete apology recovery fluff fic for DemonsDaughter and inspired by BecauseYellow</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magnets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DemonsDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/gifts), [BecauseYellow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=BecauseYellow).



> Humanformer names:   
> Rohan Rung, Ph.D. -- Rung  
> Ferris "Fort" Max -- Fort Max  
> Charlie -- Chromia  
> Wendy -- Windblade

It was the feeling of finally getting a breath of fresh air outside in the hallway of a trendy New York apartment party that filled the psychologist when he made a dash for the door. He smoothed his red-and-pepper hair back against his head. Pushing up his perfectly round spectacles against the bridge of his nose, the doctor made a quick jog for the spiraling stairs down to the lobby. He enjoyed Swerve’s company, don’t get him wrong, he just enjoyed less and less of it the more he heard the sound of the harpy’s voice.

Outside autumn was turning to winter with late night chills running down his spine as he tucked his scarf into his jacket. The weather was always perfect for him, but, being naturally lanky and thin, it didn’t always work to his advantage.

Nevertheless the sharp chill against his sharp nose gave Rung a comforting sensation that it was finally cold enough to purchase pumpkin lattes without being looked at oddly. Hot coffee was no longer an inquiry on one’s health but a near staple to survive the briskness in the air. It was that craving for something warm to keep his homeostasis at a natural degree that led the doctor into a small corner café that was open but had sparsely spread customers inside. Nothing like the Times Square Starbucks.

Inside the entire place radiated warmth and comfort, Rung even finding himself comfortable enough to slip the ends of his scarf out of the loop they’d been tugged into. The walls were painted a rich red and gold with local painter’s work hung along every possible inch of wall space with tiny titles and prices tacked beneath them. The counter, running the length of the gunshot shop, was black glass and old recycled wood. Upon closer inspection the underside was actually reclaimed shipping pallets that had been creatively painted to blend in with the warmth of the store.

“Evening,” a girl with a teal pixie cut with two streaks of sky blue and a single strip of bright red smiled. “Name’s Charlie. What can I get you?”

“Call her Chromia, though. She hates it,” a woman laughed, her black hair that was tied in a messy bun at the back of her head bouncing as she walked. Her eyes, clearly tired, were marked with creative red liquid eyeliner designs. Her equally precise lipstick of the same shade would hint that she wasn’t in the least bit tired, but as she messed around behind the counter in search of caffeinating it was obvious that she needed sleep.

“Wendy, go sit down. I’ll get you something in a bit,” Charlie whispered, patting her friend who nodded thankfully and returned to her seat near the back.

“No, no. Please, get her drink first. I’m just passing through and I’m in no rush,” Rung smiled, shaking his hand as if it didn’t matter where he was so long as it wasn’t back at Swerve’s apartment.

Charlie nodded a thanks to the older man as she started making a drink that she could have seemingly prepared with her blue eyes closed. Three shots, two pumps caramel apple, one pump white chocolate, half pump of gingerbread, and stirred; frothed milk poured over the mix, a huge pile of whipped cream topped with a dusting of fresh ground nutmeg and brown sugar sprinkles, and signed Windy, the humanitarian queen. After the patient barista had delivered the drink to her long time friend she returned to Rung’s side at the front counter.

“She’s a learning assistant to a kid who’s an absolute genius, he just has verbal communication issues. When she’s not doing that she’s acting as a translator at the immigration office for Chinese and Korean immigrants.”

“Rather impressive for a woman so young,” Rung raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “She must be incredibly intelligent.”

“She is… but all she sees it as is doing what’s right,” the young woman sighed, leaning on the glass counter top with her elbow balancing her body comfortably. “An angel who can’t see her own wings, you know?”

“Absolutely,” Rung smiled, nodding. He seldom was allowed absolutely certain wording due to his line of work, but he could tell that Wendy was an incredibly dedicated and patient woman.

Charlie laughed in an apology as she straightened up and asked what Rung wanted to drink. “Something pumpkin to combat this cold,” was all he gave her to work with, but it was enough. The man watched with his teal eyes behind the perfectly round spectacles as the young woman stood in front of the staggered tiers of several flavor pumps, pondering the real surefire way to make Rung a lifetime customer. Something that was memorable.

Finally, nodding to herself, she created what she called The Rusty Pumpkin. It was one pump gingerbread, three pumps pumpkin spice, half a pump apple spice, and two pumps pumpkin pie, and—and the doctor’s request—two decaf shots stirred in with steamed milk and latte art over the top layer of foam. Charlie had a toothpick and chocolate syrup working in a pumpkin design over the delicate canvas. Finally pleased, she handed the drink to Rung, but not before she got his opinion.

“It’s… surprisingly complex, but also intriguing,” he smiled, licking his lips.

“No charge,” she shrugged, winking one bright blue eye before opening and slamming the cash register shut.

“Oh, no I couldn’t.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s one in the morning and the only people out right now need a hot drink, a warm place to stay, or people who need something off their minds. Either way, a free drink can help at least a little. Take a seat and relax if you’d like. I’m not closing. Got a special coming in some time around...” She whisked her wrist over to check the time on her wristwatch. “Give or take an hour.”

Thanking the woman with a ten dollar tip Rung took a comfortable seat by the window. He liked having a view of things even if the view was of a quiet, nearly deserted art district on a wintry evening. He savored the drink with each sip as he reclined against a plus antique chair that was big enough for him to pull his legs up into and nest in blankets. Unfortunately he was a bit of a prideful man and kept his feet firmly planted on the old, darkened wood floors.

Outside the sky was a brilliant shade of clear black in the cold, stars and satellites making friends of each other in the dull underglow hidden by the city’s natural brightness. Tall and slender buildings squished against each other as hung antique bulb lights lit pathways down quaint alleys and sidewalks rather than the harsh blue light of street lamps. Bars down the street were open and alive, but just out of their earshot was a peaceful lull in the chaos. Swerve swore that he chose his apartment and dive bar location because the hipsters could find their way into a place none of their friends knew about and become regulars, but frankly it was probably because, when not acting as a day time barista at a specialty bookstore, Blurr spent his time running the hottest pop up bars and night clubs around the New York area. Most often it was near the obscure watering holes were Swerves planted his feet. “I’ll get the overflows, you know? Perfect plan!” He’d said when he opened his bar. Sure enough, it was always overflows and old faithfuls to fill its hollows at odd hours of the night.

After a while Rung had made a nook for himself by the window and even though his drink was half-cooled and half gone it was a perfect place to run away from a crowded room to. Spacious, few customers, skilled staff, and kindness just enough to make someone feel welcome: it was possibly one of his knew favorite places.

Just as he had resigned himself to scurry home the door to the café opened with a tinkling of the bell. Charlie smiled at the hulking man that came in, waving him over the counter. They exchanged smiles and a firm hand shake before she set his drink on the counter and tipped her hands in the air in a half salute. He nodded and thankfully took a seat by the window opposite to Rung. The man seemed to dwarf the perfectly average sized chair underneath him. His hair, such a shade of steely grey that it looked blue in a certain light, flopped over his eyes despite it being parted to one side. The man had clearly shaved it down to military shortness and, yet again—by the looks of it—let something get the better of his time. His eyes were certain and sure, but his body language said he was uncomfortable. It was odd just watching him, but it was what Rung was used to. Read the patients and evaluate.

The man sighed and slurped his coffee thankfully, shivering slightly as he stared out into the distance of the night. From a glance he could be an intimidating man but his actual mannerisms were careful and methodical as if he was used to a routine. Everything was set just so and it all went in a certain process as the man’s face suggested, only settling into his seat once things were right. He didn’t look the type to have such orderly tendencies, Rung thought to himself. But then, upon realizing such a though, banished it to its very essence. One, especially in a psychology field, must not judge. Or at least try very hard not to.

It seemed as if an impossible ocean of could-be and possibilities echoed between the two marked by clear, striking size difference. And yet, neither said a word to the other. The barista, brows furrowed in disappointment, almost wanted to drag the two together and explain certain people should just meet in the world. However, it wasn’t her place and so she went back to doting on the dutiful Wendy with dark circles beneath her beautiful eyes.

Out in the lobby Rung began reaching the bottom of his cup and soon his curiosity buzzed beneath his pallor skin like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Something was pulling him to this man. But why? What about him made him so appealing? And it wasn’t just in a sexual or romantic way. It was just that sort of attraction that two people shared when the universe’s grand forces made an executive decision for two people. Rung, perhaps out of professional curiosity or otherwise, couldn’t stop staring and even though he didn’t show it the hulking man across the room could feel the tingle of the other man’s teal eyes on him. It was a very strange sort of connection that reminded both of the men of that awkward silence between people on the phone when if either of them tried to speak their tongues would only tie and more silence would stretch. Only the presence of cohabiting the same space was enough.

Finally, heart about to burst with interest—Charlie’s cravings for chemistry sated—Rung ordered another of the layered drink and sauntered over to the larger man’s seat by the window. His eyes scanned nervously as he tried to find the words, at first just smiling like a speechless schoolgirl.

“Ferris… Ferris Max,” the man said, knowing that names came shortly after awkward greetings. Rung, smiling at this, nodded politely.

“Dr. Rohan Rung,” he extended a slender, freckled hand.

“Unusual but intriguing,” Ferris smiled a charismatic, but practiced smile. “The name, I mean.”

“May I?” The doctor asked, pressing a hand to a chair across from the large man after shaking his hand.

“Absolutely.”

Charlie, after setting another round of the drinks in front of her two new favorite patrons, beamed with pride after retreating to the back of the shop. She was stoic and strong, a muscular woman, but she had a soft, protective heart.

Back at the table Rung and Ferris were exchanging basic information and small talk, the doctor finally pleased to be in speaking distance with the slightly awkward man. It was like a wave of built up anticipation that had crashed over him with approval. It was relief mixed with more excitement.

“Doctor. Medical?” Ferris asked as he sipped his black coffee gingerly.

“Psychological, actually. Though, I work in part with many medical doctors at the hospital not far from here,” he nodded, licking his own lips clean.

“So you know a lot about fixing people when they’re sick in the head, huh?”

“Mm… I wouldn’t say sick. Not all of them need extensive medication coupled with strict diet and therapy. I like to call myself an assistant to enabling better mental health,” Rung smiled, his usual social reservations cast to the wind.

For some reason this made Ferris grin, the man dipping his head in an attempt to hide his pleased look. It was a quaint mannerism for someone so broad and tall. His strong shoulders never set out of their square setting, but his face did all the expressing. Curiouser and curiouser.

“So why were you staring at me so much over there, mm? Analyzing my deeply troubled expression?” The tall man chuckled, fist clenching and popping all four of his large knuckles. This send a shiver, not of fear, but of realization down Rung’s spine. Seeing this gulp and stare, the man slid his hand away and said, “Sorry, sorry. I’m a prison warden. I’m used to being the person that looks like the executioner from the textbooks and holding that, uh… that air.”

“Oh, haha. Don’t worry. You’re just… so…”

“Big, I know. My colleagues tell me God put me on this earth to keep the bad apples under the tree and the ducks in a row,” he chortled again, sweeping his steely blue hair from his face before it slid back over the left side of his forehead again.

“I don’t mean to stare,” Rung flushed, sipping his drink nervously.

“No, no. It’s okay, I’m used to it. I’m big,” Ferris smiled warmly, a gesture that wasn’t forced at all. “So… doctor. What brings you out at two in the morning?”

Pretending he wasn’t shocked at the hour, Rung explained the stuff, last minute party at his friend’s apartment down the street. He hated parties, but he knew if he didn’t come it wasn’t likely anyone would show up at all. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case and the place was packed. He went into detail ad nauseam of the way people were squished together and the unbearable heat and humidity of the room despite it being so chilly outside. Finally, wriggling between two couples making out near and the other against the door, the doctor escaped and stumbled into this new find.

Impressed and amused, Ferris gave a little applause with that charismatic smile that impressed the smaller man so. It was so warm and trusting despite his body language.

“You’re a good friend. I’m not the partying type even if someone close to me would have asked.”

More laughter until Rung turned his wrist over and checked his wrist watch. Once again time and effortlessly flown like it was nothing. He glared at the nearing time to three in the morning with a sigh. He had to get home some time. He did have appointments at noon the following day. He looked up at Ferris with genuine regret on his face, wanting to stay the rest of the night hours just being in the company of someone so easy to talk to.

“No, no, I get it,” the man raised his hands, pushing his empty cup forward. “You gotta go.”

“I really wouldn’t if I was free tomorrow,” Rung pleaded, standing and sliding his slender arms back into his coat and habitually swinging his scarf around his neck. “Honestly, you’re… the easiest person I’ve been able to divulge my personal life in for many years.”

“Odd thing for someone who talks to people for a living to say, don’t you think?” Ferris raised a brow, smirking as he stood, coat never removed. “Mind if I walk you home?”

“Ah… Sure, why not.”

“Promise your family photos won’t end up on a news special about local community member slaughtered by hulking, menacing man,” he laughed, Rung sharing a rare chuckle with him.

“Well, you’ve already offered to walk me home and I’ve accepted. There are little to no witnesses at this hour so I can only imagine no one will find out so quickly. I’m not a screamer.”

Ferri’s face blushed and so did Rung’s when he replayed the last line in his head. He rubbed the space between his brows as he sighed an apology, lips curling into an ashamed smile. “I’m so uncouth.”

“No, no. You’re fine. Can’t say I’m not a strange to the taste of my shoes either.”

“Can you ever say you’ve said something like that?” Rung, still red in the face, inquired.

“Yes,” Ferris nodded surely as he held the door open for the slender man.

“Prove it.”

As the two walked around a corner down a well-lit street Ferris told the story of the intimidatingly beautiful mercenary who routinely dropped off big list, big ticket felons. “She used to be an inmate in max, but when she got out she turned her macroaggressions into a career. Cleaned up well, Arcee does. I used to give her hell when she broke the dinner trays in half or slept under the beds. Now…” He whistled, almost winded by the mere thought of her. “She comes in red and pink hair, blue lips, and a gun at her hip that’s barely legal. First words to her when she dropped off a serial rapist who was hog tied was ‘You look gorgeous—I-I mean great.’”

All the way home Rung laughed and kept close to the man even when they were on the safest of streets. His heart could have glowed through his chest with how warm it was, butterflies breaking against their long rusted cages inside. Something about that man… He was perfect.

 

The overhang to Rung’s front porch was gently lit by a ghostly glow of an overhead can light above the front door. Ferris Max, that brilliant, tall, fascinating man was smiling down on the doctor with an affection that, despite its origins not at first being romantic ones, had grown. The chill of the night had kept them close and their conversations played off each other as their laughter intertwined pleasantly.

But now, threatened by the looming of the red door of Rung’s craftsman home, the warmth was buzzing with electricity. Neither of them really had much to say because of the pleasant tension built around possibilities. And yet again, leaving the rather shy psychologist in the wake of his own thoughts, Ferris spoke.

“Nice place… in a real safe neighborhood, too. Only two larcenies and three assault here, I think.” Seeing the uncertainty in the doctor’s face, the large man dipped his head, smiled and said, “Sorry, that’s not very romantic.” Then that word. Romantic. The possibilities were whittled down to one and it didn’t disappoint either of one of them.

“You… want to come inside?” Rung smiled, dark brows tilting up innocently as if to say it was okay. Both of them were incredibly awkward and that was perfect.

Inside the craftsman the dimmed down can lights that raced down the hall gave the rest of the earth toned home a warm, welcoming glow. The canvas couch were Ferris was offered a seat was plus and large despite its owner’s size. The man sighed and resigned himself to stay calm as Rung prepared some hot tea to calm him, seeing his jittery nerves.

No matter how composed the smaller man may have seemed his hands shook as he poured the hot water over the tea leaves in their sieve. He breathed methodically in counts as he made his own decaf Constant Comment to his liking—two unprocessed sugar cubes, splash of cream. He looked over the island and asked Ferris, seeing his stiffness, how he liked his tea.

“Ah, I’ll take it straight.”

Around the kitchen counter the room seemed like an ocean of silence. Rung handed the man the warm beverage, their hands brushing against each other’s gently in the momentary exchange. The psychologist smiled softly and took his seat on the other side of the couch with his body turned in to face Ferris. For a moment it was just them sipping the tea in the comfortable silence.

Finally, another built electricity nulled by a smile, Ferris decided to break the second layer of ice with a story. He told Rung of how when he got promoted to warden the subordinates called him Fort Max behind the back because he was such a large, looming, efficient man. “They thought it was funny and prodding, but it stuck. Some of the well behaved inmates call me it now,” Ferris nodded, smiling as he finished his tea and set the cup on the coffee table in front of him with the handle exactly at a ninety degree angle to his left. “So… Rohan. Any stories for your name?”

Rung nearly shivered at the sound of his name rolling off Ferris’ tongue, his deep vocal timbre echoing in his chest. It was a soothing but strong sound. The therapist simply waved the air and said the only thing he was called besides his name was several incorrect variations of his last name. “Wrong, Rang, Ring, Wrung: everything you can imagine that is almost like but not like my name,” the man chuckles, body relaxing comfortably despite someone almost completely a stranger to him being in his home.

“Rung? Hardly something to mess up. You’re no Esposito or Abdul.”

“Those names come into your business a lot?”

“Well, half of Ritchie Esposito’s family is incarcerated and the Abduls and Muhammads of New York are always sent down to my office by jumping whites under suspicion of terrorist activity along the lines of ‘blending in’ and ‘being too friendly’,” Ferris explained, shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous?”

Ferris didn’t realize he may be caught off guard by this seemingly unassuming man and yet there he sat on the couch with flushed cheeks and a wide smile across his usually cold face. His swept the hair back as a habit and chuckles, sitting up and leaning against the couch to try to show some relaxed demeanor.

“I’m not the open up and get close type. It’s strange how easily I can say all this,” the man sighed, a look of adoration in his eyes as he stared off into space. “You sure you’re not special?”

Shaking his head Rung smiled a, “No, not that I know of,” before he felt the space between them close. Ferris was scooting, albeit in miniscule increments, towards him. Rung raised a brow, his hand to his face and chuckles as Ferris’ face turned even redder. “Are you trying to pull a move?”

“Trying, yes… maybe I am…”

“We just met, didn’t we?”

Ferris sucked in a long hard breath and nodded. He turned and stared deep into Rung’s teal eyes with his own maroon ones, chest slowly, purposely breathing. In the dim light, nearly dark, it seemed like the universe was setting a mood. Stars and planets harmonized for a moment just to prove the point that some things just needed to happen.

“If it’s okay… I’d like to be spontaneous once in my life,” he said, pressing his hand against the cushion between them and leaning closer.

Rung sat his cup on the end table behind him, face flushed and body shivering as he felt the space close in seconds. He swallowed hard, bracing himself for anything that came next. He nodded the okay and Ferris slipped a hand over the smaller man’s face, gently caressing it for a moment and just looking for reactions. The psychologist’s eyes shuttered closed as he felt the heat radiate from Ferri’s palm against his cheek. Soon a second hand joined the first on the opposite side of his face, the man leaning close.

Even if just briefly the space between them was hot with potential. Then, Rung taking the lead for the first time in his life, the smaller of the two pressed their lips together. He reached his own hands up and wrapped them around the man’s neck. The kiss was awkward and a mass of lips and teeth, but it smoothed into something far more delightful. The warden led them into a more heated kiss, tongue sliding daringly between both of their lips.

When they parted the larger of the two planted kisses along Rung’s jaw and down his neck, Ferris just holding the man close to him as he breathed in his scent. The moment stilled, both of them cooling off for a moment. The large man sat back up and composed himself, brushing his hair back.

“I’m… new to all of… this…”

“Um… w-with another… man?” Rung asked curiously despite his mind’s thick, steamy fog.

“No… romance.”

Sighing, the psychologist smiled and leaned over close to Ferris. They sat shoulder to shoulder for a long time, Rung sliding his arm under and over the warden’s and intertwining their fingers. He held tight even though the man took his time to close his hand around the smaller, paler one. The pulse against Rung’s palm slowed to average with patience and time. After a comfortable silence the man hugged the large arm with both of his own.

“We can just lie here. No pressure.”

“That… that would be nice,” Ferris smiled, nodding slowly.

Fabric shifting and awkward smiles, Rung leaned against Ferris’ chest and cherished the closeness he felt, one large arm gingerly placed behind him as they laid against the couch in near silence. It was warm and a touch that felt vaguely familiar even though they’d only met a few hours ago and the sun was already lightening the sky outside. Nevertheless, the foggy light mixed with the can lights was comfortable and lulled the two men into a gentle slumber in the silence of the rising dawn over the city-suburb. Ferris couldn’t help but imagine all the good things that could come despite dwelling on his own demons. Rung, however, only felt a near bursting heat in his heart that could only be akin to something along the lines of love at first sight. If such a thing of that nature even exists.


End file.
